The Seer
by themadyjones
Summary: Ever since she was ten, Nellie Walker knew she was anything but normal. Now a sixteen-year-old witch, she attends Beauxbatons in France until one of her visions tells her that her destiny lies elsewhere: Hogwarts. With her secret closely guarded at all times, Nellie finds herself in the company of a certain pair of ambitious redheads...
1. Prologue

Prologue

"Good night, Nellie."

My mother's arms encircled my body, pulling me tight against her chest. I breathed in slightly and inhaled the warm, sugary scent that she always gave off. My father was next, kissing my forehead before drawing the covers up to my chin. He told me goodnight and then gave me a smile before leading my mother out of the room.

I settled into my pillow, moving around a bit to get comfortable. Faint moonlight was streaming through the slits in my curtains, making shapes on my carpet. The wind outside was fierce, blowing around the branches outside and making the shadows dance on the floor.

My cheek rested on top of my teddy bear's head as my eyes fluttered closed. The sound of my parents talking in hushed voices was the last thing I heard before I drifted off.

I was awoken shortly after, bolting upright in bed. My head felt like it was splitting in two. My fingers were clenched so tightly around my bear's neck that it was a wonder the head didn't fall off. I screwed my eyes up against the pain as images flashed behind my eyelids.

It was my parents. They were seated at the kitchen table, holding their wands out to each other. Their free hands gripped each other's. Tears were leaking out of my mother's eyes. My father's face was stoic. Their lips moved in unison.

A flare of green light blinded me and I tumbled off my bed, landing in a heap.

Slowly, I opened my eyes to find that I was eyelevel with the crack under my door. I inched closer and peered underneath, seeing two pairs of feet. My mother and father. They weren't in the kitchen. It didn't sound like my mother was crying. In fact, it sounded like she was on the phone.

Satisfied that I was just having a bad dream, I climbed back into bed. Moments later, I was wringing my sheets with my hands as another image overtook my brain.

_ Two figures sit hunched over in a couple of wooden chairs, a man and a woman. The woman's left hand is interlocked with the man's right. Their other hands dangle off the edge of the table where their heads rest. A thin, slightly bent wand hangs from the man's fingertips; from the woman's, a dark, knobby wand._

_ A piece of paper gently falls to the kitchen floor, inscribed with words too hastily scribbled to decipher. A shaky hand appears, belonging to another woman, and picks it up._

_ The woman takes hold of a man's hand, her husband, and leads him down a short hallway to a door. She shoves the paper into her pocket as the man pushes open the door._

_ Inside, a young girl of around ten is snoring lightly from the bed she's lying on, a stuffed bear tucked under her chin. The man steps forward and pulls back the covers, taking her gently in his arms, as the woman rushes about the room, throwing clothes into a bag._

_ Shortly after, the trio exits the house, the little girl still sleeping silently._

I rubbed my eyes as it ended. It was like watching a movie, one that seems familiar to you, but that you don't remember ever seeing.

Too tired to figure out what it all meant, I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes. In seconds, I was asleep.

oOoOo

~Six years later~

I tapped the tip of my quill against the desk. Empty parchment rested in front of me. It'd been like that for twenty minutes. I didn't know what to say.

I ran a hand through my dark hair and sucked in a breath. Dipping the quill into my bottle of ink, I scratched out a few words: _Dear Sarah and Mark_. And then I was stuck again, unable to put my own thoughts into words. All it was supposed to be was a simple thank you letter. Why was this so hard?

I blamed it on the mounting headache that was growing. It always made it hard to think. _Better get this done now, before it starts again, _I thought. I dipped the quill again and continued.

_Dear Sarah and Mark,_

_Thanks for the new quills. I've really needed more of those lately. They always seem to break in my bag. Yes, my classes are going well. Everyone is very excited that term ends in a few weeks, and so am I. I'll be home before you know it!_

_ Love, Nellie_

There. That was all that I really needed to say. I felt bad about lying, but they didn't have to know the real reason I was constantly in need of more quills, did they? Of course, it's happened a lot more this year than it had in all the time I've been in school, so they may suspect something's wrong…

I rolled up the parchment and tossed the ink and quill back into my bag before standing. The letter secure in my hand, I strolled out of the dorm and made my way to the Owlery.

My head was throbbing. I clapped my free hand to my forehead, screwing my face up against the pain. It had never felt that bad before.

_Just get to the Owlery._ I chanted that over and over again as my pace quickened.

The musty smell of feathers and the quiet hooting of the owls greeted me as I stepped into the tower. My eyes scanned the shelves and rafters, looking for my owl, finally spotting him toward the top. "Nettles," I called.

With a low hoot, he swooped down, landing lightly on my shoulder and holding one leg out for my letter. I tied a thin cord around it, securing the parchment to his foot. Then I ran my fingertips lightly along his brown feathers. His yellow eyes watched me.

I was hit with a sudden burst of agony. My hands flew to my ears, pressing themselves against my head, keeping it from splitting in half. I fell to my knees, startling Nettles and causing him to leave my shoulder to hover in front of my face. After a few moments, he turned away and soared through one of the windows.

Tears were sliding down my cheeks. The pain had never been this bad before, not since I was ten. Usually, it was just enough for me to snap my quill from tightening my grip too much. I could have snapped a tree, as bad as this hurt.

I fell forward onto the dusty floor, curling up into a ball as the images seared into the back of my eyelids.

It was a castle, with towers that stretched toward the sky, high enough that they reached the clouds. Windows were lit all around, making pools of light on the ground. A forest lay nearby, and a lake, and what looked like a Quidditch pitch. A school, maybe?

A coat of arms blazed to the front. A large H was surrounded by a lion, a snake, a badger, and a raven. The words _draco dormiens nunquam titillandus_ were laced around it.

It struck a familiar chord, all of it, but I didn't know what it was.

The sound of heavy footfalls brought me back to reality. Madame Maxime was speaking to me, but I couldn't comprehend her words. It didn't help that her accent was thick. You'd think I'd be used to it by now.

"Miss Walker?" she asked, once I was okay enough to understand. The headache was quickly fading. "Your owl came to get me. What eez it?"

I sat up, brushing feathers off my uniform and wiping at my eyes before tapping a finger against my forehead. "I had another…"

She nodded in understanding. "What was it?"

"A castle. A really big castle, about the size of our school. Well, I think _it_ was a school, too. The coat of arms had a lion, a raven, a badger, and a snake. I think – " I paused. "I think I'm supposed to go there."

The Headmistress nodded. "You are talking about 'Ogwarts. It eez anuzzer school for magic, een Great Britain. Ze Beauxbatons and ze Durmstrangs will be traveling there next term for ze Triward Tournament. Perhaps we can take you then."

I nodded, although I had no idea what a Durmstrang or a Triwizard Tournament was. But my visions had never been wrong before, so I supposed that meant I was to be enrolled at a different school.

Madame Maxime looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know, I nevair zot Beauxbatons was your true 'ome. You nevair zeemed to like it very much. 'Ogwarts will be good for you."

I nodded again, because I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't believe it. One massive headache, a vision, and a short conversation, and I was to be moved to a new school?

A large part of me was excited, but a smaller, more reasonable side had a question: Should I tell them I'm a Seer?


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

~Fred~

"Get up! Honestly, you lot, you'd think you didn't want to go at all!"

I groaned and stuck my head under my pillow. It was too early in the morning for Mum to be shrieking at us. The sun wasn't even up yet, why did we have to be? I mean, it was just the World Cup.

Something kicked me in the side. I think it was George's foot. Sleeping on the floor of our dear baby brother's room did have its side effects. A few blankets really weren't enough to make Ron's wood floor any softer. Stupid Bill and Charlie, taking George and I's room. Stupid Percy, getting to keep his own room.

"Either you get up now or I'm coming up to get you!"

A hand grabbed my ankle. "Come on, Freddie, we may as well go now. Let Ron and Harry suffer Mum's wrath."

I groaned again and sat up, letting the pillow fall into my lap. George did the same, looking quite funny with his hair sticking up. "Nice hair," he said, meaning I probably looked the same. I grinned. Of course I did; that's the whole point of being twins, after all.

We got to our feet, careful not to disturb the two sleeping beauties before mum could get upstairs and give them a piece of her mind. The ancient wood floors creaked with every step we took.

Down the never-ending flights of stairs, across a few landings, and a short walk later, we made it to the kitchen, where Hermione and our little sister, Ginny, were already sitting at the table, looking just as bleary-eyed as I felt. Dad strolled in shortly after, a cup of coffee in his hand, whistling merrily. How he could be so awake, I'll never understand.

Mum turned around from her place at the stove. "Fred, George! It's about time! Sit down and eat."

We did as we were told, practically collapsing into our chairs. The food smelled good, and was my only motivation for not falling asleep where I sat. Well, that and the fear that Mum would dump bacon grease down my back to wake me up.

Apparently, George wasn't feeling motivated enough, because I had to grab him by his long hair to keep his face from falling into his breakfast. Several times. And _he_ was the one that said we should get up!

Mum set a fresh plate of toast on the table and looking disapprovingly at the two of us. "Did the two of you bother to think about waking Ron and Harry up?"

"Saved that privilege for you, Mum," George mumbled with his mouth full. She just sighed and shook her head.

Hermione looked up from her plate of eggs. "Mrs. Weasley, I can go wake them." She set her fork down and stood, heading for the stairs. Mum called a thank you after her as she disappeared upstairs. Pity; Mum didn't get the chance to instill terror in their veins.

I stifled a yawn and blinked a few times to clear my eyes. It was too early to be awake. Bill, Charlie, and Percy had it lucky; they could Apparate and sleep in.

George was watching me. "What?" I asked. He pointed to my cheek. I pressed my fingers to it, feeling a bit of bacon stuck there. "Now, how did _that_ get there?" I grinned and brushed it off.

"Looks like someone's not fully awake," George replied.

"You've got eggs on your forehead, Georgie."

He felt his forehead. "Do not."

I grabbed a piece of egg from his plate and stuck it to his face. "Do too," I smirked. Ginny giggled.

He flicked it off and flashed me a grin. I laughed, and he joined in. It wasn't really that funny, but oh well.

"Boys!" Mum shrieked. "Stop playing with your food!"

Grumbling under our breath, we shot a glare at her back. Always spoiling our fun…

Hermione returned shortly after, dragging dear Ronald by the collar of his pajamas. Harry followed silently, rubbing his glasses on his shirt. Ron was mumbling something incoherent as Hermione dropped him into the seat next to me. Harry sat on his other side and grabbed a slice of toast.

"Good morning, Ronnie!" I sang cheerily, ruffling his hair.

"You look like you got your beauty sleep!" George added just as happily.

Everyone at the table snickered, including Dad. Ron's hair was sticking up all over his head, his eyes had dark circles underneath, and his skin was pale. He looked like he'd just wrestled a bear. So much for beauty sleep, eh?

Dad jumped to his feet, swallowing the last bit of his coffee. "Lord, the time escaped me! Up, everyone up! We've got a long walk ahead, best be off now!" He then proceeded to shoo us out the door, Mum blowing kisses at us as we went.

A seemingly never-ending walk followed, through the village and over hills. The sun had decided to start rising at about the halfway mark. Ron complained the entire time, much to my annoyance. But what can you do? Little brothers are such pests. We didn't stop until we reached the trees.

"Arthur! It's about time you got here!" some man shouted as he jumped out of one of the trees. George and I exchanged a glance. That was bizarre.

George leaned over and mumbled in my ear, "He's a little old to be climbing trees, isn't he?" I grinned and nodded back.

Dad replied with a "Sorry, Amos" and then continued his little chat. The rest of us were too preoccupied with another person jumping down to pay much attention.

A boy with light hair and dark eyes straightened up. He was about as tall as George and I and older by what must have been only a year. He struck a chord of familiarity in my head, but I didn't place him until Dad spoke up, holding out his hand. "And this young man must be Cedric, am I right?"

Cedric Diggory, a seventh-year Hufflepuff at Hogwarts and Seeker on his house's Quidditch team, shook his hand with a smile. "Yes, sir," he replied.

George and I rolled our eyes. What was this "sir" nonsense? Nobody called Dad "sir". Well, except Harry. Bless our brother's gentleman of a best friend.

Soon enough, we were moving again, Dad talking animatedly to Cedric's father, Amos Diggory. Cedric himself was trailing along behind the two of them, George and I next, and the happy trio of Harry, Ron, and Hermione at the rear. Ginny, having been kicked out of their conversation, was trudging along beside me.

We stopped again at the top of a hill. In front of us laid an old, worn, and holey boot with a few pieces held together by a few strings. I raised my eyebrows and cast a curious glance at Dad as he, Amos, and Cedric grasped the top of the foul thing. "Grab hold, kids!"

Well, who was I to question his wishes? I reached out and grabbed at it, George doing the same. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny followed suit a few seconds later, leaving Harry standing dumbly and staring off into space. As soon as Dad called out to him, however, he rushed forward just in time. Before I knew it, our feet were leaving the ground.

We spun in circles, the wind lashing at our faces and blowing my hair into my mouth. I was starting to think maybe I'd grown it out a little _too_ long. George was having the same struggle. I could only imagine how bad Hermione had it. Actually, when I looked at her, I couldn't see her face. Those were some mean curls she had.

"Let go kids!" Dad exclaimed. Amos and Cedric both released their grip, flying backward before beginning a graceful descent.

"_What_?" someone exclaimed. With all the wind, I couldn't tell who.

Dad was grinning as he shouted, "I said _let go_!"

I looked at George. We nodded in unison. We counted together, "One, two, three!" I pulled my hand back and began to free-fall.

Air whistled in my ears. I tried to right myself into a standing position so the collision wouldn't hurt as bad, but failed miserably. George was waving his arms around, having about as much luck as I was. There wasn't much we could do after those attempts.

The ground appeared suddenly, and with a dull _thud_, the two of us landed on top of each other in a grassy field.

Untangling myself, I groaned in pain. My arms hurt from the awkward way I'd landed on them. George was on his back, splayed out with a wince. Nearby, the rest of the group looked much the same. All except Dad, Amos, and Cedric, who were floating down slowly, looking like they were walking on the air.

Clearly, they'd done this before.

I stood and pulled George to his feet as everyone else brushed themselves off and stretched their aching limbs. Dad, suffering no injuries, began to walk off toward what looked like another village. "All right everyone, this way to the campground!" he caroled.

As irritated as I was with the man for not telling us how to properly land, I couldn't help but share in his excitement. It was the Quidditch World Cup! We were actually there! And to top it off, we had some pretty excellent seats in the stadium.

I turned to my brother with a wide grin. "Off we go, Georgie!"

oOoOo

~George~

The tent we were staying in was beyond expectation. The ceiling was a few feet above my head, doorways led into separate rooms, and there was a kitchen. _A kitchen_. And we could only stay one night? That seemed a little unfair.

Having been raised by wizards, I wasn't overly shocked by it. Sure, it had more rooms than I'd envisioned; I was expecting two or three. Harry, however, having been raised by Muggles, stood in the middle of the main room, his mouth hanging open as he took it all in.

I elbowed him playfully as I walked around him. "Careful you don't catch flies, mate."

We had a few hours to wait before it was time to head to the match, so Fred and I took the liberty of sitting with our feet up at the dinner table. Ron was busy rummaging through cupboards.

"Ron, get out of the kitchen. We're all hungry," Dad scolded him.

"Yeah, get out of the kitchen, Ron!" Fred and I chorused.

Dad shot us a look. "Feet off the table."

"Feet off the table!" We put our legs down, but as soon as Dad turned away, we put them up again, leaning back in our chairs. Harry had finally decided to close his mouth and had followed Ron into the kitchen.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the tent shortly after, probably to go talk to people from school. Ginny left right after, for most likely the same reason. Dad watched Fred and I expectantly, but we just sat there, making funny faces at each other.

He sighed. "Honestly, you two, don't you have friends you could go and see?"

"Of course we do," I said.

"But we enjoy your company more," Fred finished.

Dad rolled his eyes and pointed to the opening in the tent. "Out."

Together, we stood, shooting Dad with a sad look. Fred even began to sniff, like he was about to cry. "I thought you loved us!" he wailed, putting his face in his hands. I patted his shoulder consolingly as he "sobbed".

Clearly, that was not winning us any points, because took his wand out of his pocket and lazily pointed it toward us. "One." Fred and I looked at each other, surprised. "Two." We raised our eyebrows. I was halfway curious as to what he was going to do. "Three."

It became quite obvious that he was never actually intending to jinx us when he hit that number. He stared at us blankly, like he didn't know what to do now. His lips twitched into a smirk before he took on a menacing expression. "I'll tell Molly that you've brought more of that candy with you."

Fred grabbed my arm and we ran out of the tent without a backward glance. The noise was considerably louder outside; people were wandering around between the rows and rows of tents and talking to their companions.

I leaned again Fred as we both gasped for breath. I think that was the fastest I'd ever run. "I can't believe he pulled the Mum card!" I exclaimed, outraged.

"Never mind that, how did he _know_?" Fred countered, casting a wary glance over his shoulder. He fished around in his pants pocket before pulling out a small bag full of brightly colored sweets. "I made sure no one could tell we had these!"

I took out my own bag from the hidden pocket inside my sweater. "He probably just guessed."

"Well, now he definitely knows. Let's just hope he doesn't tell Mum."

We started to walk off in a random direction, not really knowing our destination. "She just doesn't understand our genius." Fred shook his head, kicking a rock.

"Yeah. What do O.W.L.s matter, anyway? We're obviously smart, or else we wouldn't have come up with all of our products," I said.

"Apparently three O.W.L.s each isn't good enough." He sighed heavily, and in a sorrowful voice, added. "I guess we'll never be Ministry workers like Percy, eh, George?"

I snorted. "Oh, what horrors will we have to face next?"

We laughed, slapping each other on the backs. Work for the Ministry? Us? I'd heard some crazy things in my life, but that was just completely absurd. Our abilities were better used…elsewhere.

On and on we walked, waving hello to a few of our classmates, pretending that we didn't see some of the others. It really was not the time or place to get into a fight with one of the Slytherins, even though they were shouting insults at us as we went by.

Fred was tapping his fingertips against his lips. "Who could we try these out on? I'm not satisfied with the results we got from Harry's cousin."

I nodded in agreement. "We only have Harry's word on what happened. We didn't even get to see how long his tongue got." I glanced around, looking for a victim. "Pretty much everyone knows not to accept anything from us, though."

"Is there someone here we _don't_ know?" We stopped, looking about us for any sign of an unfamiliar face.

A girl around our age with dark, curly hair caught my eye. She wore a knee length green skirt with white stockings, and a white long-sleeved shirt. When she turned slightly, I caught sight of a shamrock pin on her chest and a green ribbon in her hair. Even her shoes were green.

Clearly, she was not a Bulgaria fan. And I couldn't put a name to her face, so that was a bonus.

I nudged Fred with my elbow. "How about her?"

"Do we know her?" he asked. I shrugged. "Well, if we don't, what're the chances that she'll actually eat one?"

I looked her over again. "Probably slim," I admitted. Most people don't take being offered suspicious candy very well.

Fred took on a thoughtful expression. "She likes the Irish, right?"

"Obviously."

He nodded, crossing his arms. "We don't look very supportive of the Irish, do we, George?" When I shook my head, he continued. "Maybe if we do, she'll be more willing to eat a piece. You know, "aiding your fellow Irish fans" and all that nonsense?"

I looked to my right and saw a blonde boy talking animatedly to a kid who looked like his younger brother. His face was smothered in green and white paint, but I could tell who it was. "That's Colin Creevey, isn't it?" Fred nodded. "Then we could start there." Surely he had some leftover paint?

Colin Creevey was a Gryffindor third year who was a major fan of Harry. He was annoying to listen to, because he rambled horribly, but we never saw him outside the common room or the Great Hall, so we didn't have much of a problem with him.

"Oi, Colin!" Fred called, striding over.

Colin looked up excitedly. "You're the Weasley twins! You're friends with Harry Potter, aren't you?"

"Yeah, we are," I answered. "Look, Colin, do you have any more of that paint?" I pointed to his face.

"I sure do!" he squeaked, nodding so vigorously I was afraid his neck would snap. He began rummaging through a bag, all the while chattering away. "Are you Irish fans? Of course you are, otherwise you wouldn't want my paint! I just love the Irish Quidditch team. Their Chasers are amazing, but they can't top their Seeker! Oh, Lynch is awesome – "

He'd already taken the two bottles out, and I took the liberty of grabbing them while Fred shushed him. "Yes, Lynch is very good. Thanks for the paint, Colin," he said.

I dipped my finger into the white paint and smeared a stripe under each eye, then did the same with the green before tossing the two colors to Fred. I felt a little bad about using Colin, but it wore off quickly when I saw Fred's face. "Blimey, Fred, where'd your face go?" I laughed.

His face was completely painted. There was green across his cheeks and nose, and from the center of his forehead down to his chin. The rest of it was filled in with white. He handed the paint back to Colin, waved good-bye, and then sauntered off in a different direction.

"All right, what's next?" I asked, following him.

"Let's buy scarves!" Fred exclaimed, indicating a vendor selling various merchandise. He ran off, leaving me to chase after him.

I wrapped a green and white striped scarf around my neck. Fred did the same, then grabbed a similar looking hat and plopped it on his head. I shook my head at him. "You look ridiculous."

He held up a hand. "There's no need to be jealous, George."

I chuckled and grabbed his arm, tugging him toward where the girl was still standing. As we crept up behind her from the back, Fred dumped one of the Ton-Tongue Toffees into his open palm. I reached out to tap her shoulder, but then she spoke.

"I appreciate you going to all that trouble to impress me, but I'm not eating your candy." She turned around to look at us, raking her eyes over our getups. Her lips twitched when she saw Fred.

Fred and I exchanged confused glances. How did she know we were going to give her candy? Did she have eyes in the back of her head? Maybe we really _did _know her, but had just never spoken to her. Before either of us could ask, she was already walking away.

"Hey, wait!" Fred called as I grabbed her wrist.

She turned back, eyeing us carefully. "What?"

"Do we know you?" I asked.

She pulled out of my grasp and backed up. "No, you don't. We've never met. And I don't accept candy from strangers, got it?"

Fred held out his hand. "I'm Fred Weasley."

I followed suit. "I'm George Weasley. And you are…?"

As Fred had offered his left hand (he had the Toffees in his other), and I had offered my right, she had to cross her arms over each other to shake them both simultaneously, slipping her smaller hands into ours.

Almost immediately, her grip tightened. I jumped in surprise. I swear she was trying to crush our fingers, and was ultimately succeeding. It only lasted a few seconds, though. When her grip slackened, I looked back to her face. Her gray eyes were staring off into the distance, watching something that I couldn't see.

Fred cleared his throat. "Your name?"

She blinked once and jumped a little. Then her eyes came back to focus on us. She shook our hands again, softer this time, like we were made of glass. "Sorry. I'm Nellie Walker."

I chuckled and returned my hand to my side. "Well, Nellie Walker, you've got quite the handshake." She smiled a little.

Fred held up a Toffee. "So, now that we aren't strangers, would you like to try one?"

Her eyes hardened and she backed away again. "No, not really." She looked over her shoulder. "I've got to go."

"Are you here with you parents?" I inquired.

"Sort of."

I wasn't sure how you could "sort of" be with your parents, but I didn't get the chance to ask for clarification. She was already running away, opposite the direction that our tent was in.

Fred was also watching her go. "What school do you think she goes to?"

Her accent was English, just like mine and Fred's, which would point toward Hogwarts. But I was almost positive that I had never seen her before in my life. She was definitely not a Gryffindor, and she didn't seem the type to be a Slytherin. But I couldn't recall a face like that in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, either.

I pointed this out to Fred, who shrugged. "Oh well. We should be getting back anyway."

We turned away and headed back toward our tent, not talking about much of anything. I couldn't get the girl, Nellie, out of my head. How did she know we were offering her candy, when she hadn't even turned around to see it? And what school did she go to, if not Hogwarts? She couldn't have been older than sixteen, so she couldn't have already graduated.

I couldn't come up with any answers, not even as to why I kept thinking of her. But judging by the way Fred kept looking behind us, his thoughts were revolving around our mystery girl, too.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

~Nellie~

I tried to run away without making it seem too obvious, but failed. I was sure that the two boys, Fred and George, were watching me go, but I didn't spare a glance over my shoulder until I was well away from them. When I turned back around, they were walking off in the opposite direction.

I wiped my sweaty palms on the front of my shirt. My fingertips tingled as I thought back to the feeling of their hands in mine. I'd nearly broken their fingers. It'd never happened when I'd touched a person before; it also lasted much shorter than my normal visions did. There wasn't even a headache to warn me.

A little further ahead sat the tent where I was staying with my godparents, Sarah and Mark. So when I'd said I was sort of staying with my parents, I wasn't lying. Sarah and Mark were as close to parents as I had. I'd been living with them since I was ten, when my real parents went away for work. They left in the middle of the night without a goodbye, and I hadn't seen them since. That was six years ago.

My godparents pretended that my mum and dad sent me letters, but it was never in the right handwriting. They tried to explain how work at the Ministry kept them busy whenever I asked why they weren't home for Christmas or my birthday. Eventually, I just stopped asking.

I sank into a chair outside my tent, breathing hard from my short sprint. I buried my face in my hands, clenching my eyes shut and thinking back to the vision from earlier.

I'm never usually in my own visions, but this time I was. I didn't look much different, so I assumed I was still sixteen. I had on black robes over a white shirt. And I wasn't alone. Fred and George were there, walking on either side of me with smiles on their faces. One of them said something and the three of us laughed. It was like we were friends, and had known each other for years. But how was that even possible?

I reflected back on the vision I'd had before that one. I'd seen them offering me candy, but I knew the candy was bad. An image of a chubby boy with a large purple tongue flared into my brain. His parents were screaming, the man just as overweight as his son, the woman sickly thin. I knew to refuse.

I let out a shaky sigh and looked up, carefully watching the people around me. That was a habit of mine, people watching. You could tell a lot about a person's life just by watching.

A tall blonde boy with chiseled features lifted a hand and waved at me, grinning. A small smile appeared on my face, and my hand gave a tiny twitch in response. He seemed nice enough.

I returned my attention to my current situation and kicked lightly at the chair that sat across from mine. It fell over quickly onto the grass with a soft _thud_. I wasn't sure what to think of that weird second vision, and taking out my frustration on the chair was about all I could really do.

"Nellie, are you back already?" Sarah's high voice came floating out of the tent behind me.

I shrugged without looking her way. "There wasn't much to do."

My godmother strode into view, picked up the overturned chair and took a seat. She was around her mid-thirties and had waves of dark blonde hair that fell to just below her chin. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, fixing a green-eyed gaze on me with a smile. "Didn't you talk to anyone?" she asked.

I shrugged again.

"This would be a perfect time for you to go around and make friends. There's bound to be lots of Hogwarts students here. Then you wouldn't have to be a complete stranger once the school year starts."

I leaned back in my chair and rested my chin on the palm of my hand, clearing my throat a little. "Yeah, I know. But I'm still going to be the stranger anyway. I'm from Beauxbatons. A short conversation with some random Hogwarts girl isn't going to make me blend in any more than I will now."

Sarah looked a little disappointed. "So you didn't talk to anyone while you were out?"

The corner of my mouth twitched upward a bit. "No, I did. These two boys came up to me and we talked for a little bit," I answered truthfully.

"Were they from Hogwarts? How old were they?" Sarah asked, suddenly much more excited-looking than she'd been before. "Were they_ cute_?"

I chuckled. "I'm not sure whether or not they went to Hogwarts," I lied. I had a pretty good idea that they did, judging from the picture of us together I'd seen. "And they looked to be around my age."

That was all I really had to say, but Sarah was looking at me expectantly. I grinned and rolled my eyes. "Well, they weren't _ugly_, exactly."

Sarah squealed like she was a teenage girl and clapped her hands ecstatically. "Do I get to meet them?"

I raised my eyebrows. "I don't really know them enough to introduce you. But if I see them when we go to watch the match, I'll point them out for you."

That seemed to be good enough for her, because she dropped to subject of Fred and George soon after.

OoOoOo

A few hours later, the sun was setting and I was being driven like livestock toward the arena. There were voices all around me, friends talking to friends and gamblers placing bets on which team would win: Bulgaria or Ireland? I was silent, keeping to myself as I walked in between Mark and Sarah, who were smiling at their surroundings, more excited to see the match than I was.

My green skirt was riding up, so I quickly tugged it back down. My shoes were pinching my feet. I shivered a little in the chilly night air, but didn't complain. The cool atmosphere was sort of nice, in a way.

I couldn't help but shoot quick glances at the people near me, searching for a couple heads of red hair. It was stupid of me, of course, to be looking for the twins, but my curiosity was getting the better of me. I had to know why I'd had a vision of the three of us together.

At one point I thought I found one of them, but this boy was too lanky looking to be Fred or George, and he was walking with a girl with massive curls and a boy with slightly askew glasses.

I couldn't stop myself from feeling a little disappointed.

We reached the arena not long after, and I was forced to climb up several flights of stairs. Mark had gotten us decent seats, so we were pretty high up above the field, about four or five rows from the top. Needless to say, we had a great view, and once we sat down, I found myself growing the tiniest bit more excited.

"Ready, Nellie?" Mark leaned across Sarah to ask. I nodded with a small smile before returning my attention to the Quidditch pitch.

Not long after, the Minister's voice rang out from atop the stands. "As Minister of Magic, it gives me great pleasure to welcome each and every one of you to the finals of the 422nd Quidditch World Cup." The crowd exploded into claps and cheers. "Let the match…begin!"

If it was possible for the assembled to get any louder, they did so as the Irish Quidditch team zoomed onto the field. The players sped in a circle all the way around the arena, some of them spinning and doing tricks. A large leprechaun made of what looked like stars formed in the air and did a little dance. The sight brought a smile to my face. That was why I loved the Irish team.

All of a sudden, seven more players clothed in brilliantly scarlet robes burst through the dancing leprechaun, much to the delight of their supporting fans. Bulgaria had arrived.

The crowd was ecstatic and practically screaming from excitement as the Bulgarian team did their own array of stunts. One word was passed along around the entire arena: Krum.

Viktor Krum was the Bulgarian team's Seeker, the one who chases the Snitch to gain one hundred and fifty points and hopefully wins the game. He also happened to be incredibly young for a guy of his talent, and was a Quidditch prodigy. Apparently, he still attended school.

The man in question passed by right then, so close to my face I could have reached out and touched his robes. I was an Irish fan through and through, but Krum was pretty impressive.

The match that followed was such a fast-paced blur that I had troubling following at some points. Lynch, the Irish Seeker, took a nosedive when Krum faked him out, but got back in quickly. One of the Irish beaters (I think Quigley) smashed a Bludger into Krum's nose, splattering blood on his face. Lynch spotted the Snitch first, but Krum beat him to it. Regardless, the score was 170-160, and Ireland still won.

By the time the match was over, I was on my feet screaming myself hoarse. I'd never been to a professional Quidditch match before, but it was everything I'd hoped for it to be. Although, I was kind of disappointed it didn't last a little longer.

I followed after Mark and Sarah as they led me out of the arena and back into the fairgrounds. The walk back to our tent was long, and was filled with the cheers of the winning team's supporters and the angry mutterings of the losing team's. Mark and I took it upon ourselves to taunt Sarah for her faith in the Bulgarian team, to which she protested, claiming she'd been rooting for Ireland all along.

"Go get some rest for a while, Nellie. It's been an exciting night, and we've got to leave early tomorrow morning," Mark advised, nodding toward the tent.

"All right." I waved to the both of them before crawling through the opening and straightening out into a large living room with a kitchen to the side. Another door sat to my left. That's the one I went to.

I slipped out of my shoes and slid underneath the covers of my bed, resting my head against the pillow. My eyes closed automatically, and I felt myself drift off…

OoOoOo

"Nellie! Nellie, wake up! Please, we have to go! There's a good girl, now come on!" Mark's rough voice and calloused hands shook me out of my slumber.

I bolted upright and stared at him with wide eyes. Mark's usually uniform blonde hair was sticking up in several places and his brown eyes were bright with alarm. "What is it?" I whispered.

Mark didn't answer. He gripped my arm above the elbow and tugged me off the bed, pulling me through the door and out of the tent in less than ten seconds. Judging by the darkness outside, I guessed I was only asleep an hour or so. But even though the time lapse was short, the scene before me was a radical change compared to what I remembered.

There was fire. A lot of it. And not just campfires that other people lit outside their tents; these fires were bigger. It looked like several tents were burning, their flames reaching up to twice my height. And there were people screaming, too, and running in every direction. Several frightened young girls almost bumped into me as I stood frozen in horror.

Sarah was in much the same state. Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks, her face illuminated by the glowing remains of our own fire. Mark, keeping one firm hand on my arm, threw his other arm around her and puller her into his side.

"Quickly!" he shouted to be heard above all the noise. "They're coming this way!"

"Who?" I yelled back, trying to glance over my shoulder. Mark didn't answer; instead, he guided us around the corner of a nearby building.

Sarah let go of him and stepped to the side, holding her arms tight against her body. In seconds, she was gone. All that was left behind was a loud cracking noise.

Mark held out his arm. I took it and dug my nails into his skin, thoroughly terrified at the commotion unfolding around the two of us. "Hold on, Nellie," Mark ordered. Then, with another sharp _crack_, we were gone.

OoOoOo

When the world had stopped spinning around me, I realized we were back home, and standing in the middle of kitchen. Sarah was already there setting a kettle on the stovetop.

Mark disentangled himself from my grip and sat me down in a chair. He took a seat across from me and rested his hands on his knees, leaning toward me. His face was grim. "Now, Nellie, I'm sure you've got questions about – "

"What just happened?" I cut in, completely bewildered.

Mark sighed, and Sarah glared at the kettle. Mark swallowed once and cleared his throat before answering. "Nellie, you've heard of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, right?"

I laughed shakily. It really wasn't funny. "Who hasn't?"

He nodded, and cracked a few knuckles on his left hand. "Yes, well… Do you know about Death Eaters?"

I gave him a blank stare.

He smiled a little. "Those are what his followers are called." He coughed into his fist, somewhat awkwardly. "They were there, at the World Cup. Torturing Muggles, by the look of it."

I frowned at him. "So that's why we Apparated?"

Mark nodded. "That's why we Apparated."

The kettle started to whistle then. Sarah grabbed a few cups from the cupboard and dropped in the teabags before filling them with the boiling water. She gave me a small, reassuring smile as she set one cup in front of me.

I took a large cup and ended up scalding my throat. I spluttered and spit the rest of the mouthful onto the table. Sarah laughed while Mark just sat there and smiled as I wiped the spot clean. "Do you think everyone's all right?" I coughed a little to get the words out. My throat was on fire.

"The Ministry stepped in. I'm sure everyone's just fine," Mark answered, but he didn't sound so sure. The two of them were Ministry workers themselves, so I was surprised that they ran home with me.

I rubbed my neck absentmindedly as I stared at the damp towel in my hand. I glanced up to find Mark and Sarah watching me anxiously. "So, what happens now?"

Sarah patted my shoulder. "Now, you need to go off the bed. We're going to Diagon Alley in the morning for your school supplies, so you need to be rested up. You'll be traveling to Beauxbatons in a few days, after all."

I stood from my chair, waved goodnight to my godparents, and quickly left the room. I didn't really want to go back to Beauxbatons. My only consolation was that it was just for a day or so; after that, we'd all be traveling to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. I wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but I figured I'd be finding out soon enough.

Sighing heavily, I fell back onto my bed and closed my eyes. Madame Maxime had told me I would be arriving with the rest of the girls, which involved me dancing into the room with them, something I really didn't want to do. I was actually quite proud of my dancing skills, to be honest, but that didn't mean I wanted the Hogwarts student body to see me do it.

_Oh well, _my mind said. _That's probably the least of your worries, Nellie._

I could feel a headache coming on, but it was a normal person headache, and not a symptom of my visions. I hadn't had an actual headache in a long time.

My mind went back to my previous thought, the one about my fear of embarrassing myself in front of my new classmates. _That's probably the least of your worries._ Compared to the events that had just taken place at the World Cup, those words couldn't have been any truer.


	4. Chapter 3

***Hey guys! Here's Part Two of Mady's Birthday Celebration! Hope you enjoy this chapter; Nellie's finally going to Hogwarts! I, personally, love this chapter. It sets up the relationship between Nellie and the twins in a sweet way, and I'm super excited to write the next chapter! Hope ya like, the new Tower Falling chapter is up next!***

Chapter Three

~Fred~

George and I sat with our friend, Lee Jordan, on the Hogwarts Express. It was September 1st, and the train was packed full of innocent little first years trying to find their ways around. George, Lee, and I were sixth years, and a year away from finishing our education. Frankly, I couldn't wait. I was looking forward to the freedom.

But, for now, we were stuck on the scarlet steam engine, a few minutes away from needing to change into our school robes. We'd be arriving at Hogwarts shortly.

Currently, we were working on our latest products to test out on those aforementioned first years. The assorted pieces of parchment were spread around our compartment, our quills were poised at the ready, but the ink was slowly drying on their tips, as the conversation kept getting off topic.

We'd moved off the subject of the Quidditch World Cup, as that was old news. Sure, the Death Eaters showed up and scrambled to party, and the Dark Mark was seen shining over the area, but I couldn't focus for too long on depressing subjects, and neither could George. We were just too happy of people.

"What do you think it was that Mum was talking about before we left?" George asked, leaning back in his seat.

I shrugged. "Dunno. Guess we'll have to wait and see."

Lee looked confused. "What did she say?"

"She said with all the fun going on at Hogwarts, we won't want to come home for Christmas," I answered.

"And Charlie said that he'll be seeing us soon," George added.

Lee's eyebrows merged in the center. "That's weird. Doesn't he work in Romania?"

"Yeah, he does. But, who knows? Maybe they were just joking around." I turned my head to watch out the window. The sky was gray and clouded over, but there was enough light that we didn't need the lamps to see. At least it wasn't raining like the year before.

We mostly joked around after that, throwing harmless spells at each other with our wands. When it was nearing the time for our arrival at Hogwarts, the three of us stood and unpacked our robes from our trunks. We slipped our black robes over our white shirts and helped each other with our ties. The three of us were all Gryffindors, so our ties were scarlet and gold, and we had a lion on the front of our robes. George ended up almost strangling Lee with his tie, as he had made it too tight.

The scream of the engine paired with the squeal of the brakes interrupted our playful banter and signaled that we had to grab our trunks down again. Grasping the handle of mine tightly, I led the way into the hallway, George and Lee following closely behind. George's trunk kept hitting me behind the knees, and mine was about to topple over the second year girl in front of me.

There was a drawn out delay when one of the first years dropped their owl's cage, accompanied by the shrill shriek of what I assumed to be the owl and not the frightened boy.

When we finally made it off the train, the three of us headed toward the carriages, pulled by what we'd just assumed to be invisible horses. There was nothing to see attached to the front of the carriage, but it didn't bother me too badly.

We watched the first years get into the tiny rowboats with Hagrid, Hogwarts's gamekeeper and Care of Magical Creatures teacher. He was half giant and had a gigantic black beard, but he was one of the nicest people I'd ever met, and was a complete pushover. We viewed that sight for a moment longer, and then climbed into our carriage, just the three of us, like it always was.

~George~

It didn't take long to reach the castle. As soon as the carriage rolled to a stop, Lee, Fred, and I got out, dragging our trunks along behind us, and followed the mass of black-robed students all the way to the giant oak doors.

We deposited said trunks in the Entrance Hall and walked along the torch-lit passageways toward the Great Hall. We were passing by one of the many glassless windows when there was of a squeal of delight from up ahead. Fred and I exchanged a glance and a grin, and then ran toward the source.

Several students were grouped along the windows, leaning out and staring at something in the sky. Fred and I shoved our way through the crowd, ending up just behind Ginny and next to Ron, Harry, and Hermione. Luckily, Ginny was a good foot shorter than the two of us, so we could easily see.

"Look up there, Freddie," I said, nudging him with my elbow. Up above, coming closer and closer to the castle, was an enormous carriage being pulled by equally huge winged horses, gleaming white in the cloudy sky.

I could see Hagrid on the ground, holding two stick-looking things in his hands, waving them around like he was directing the horses where to go. Clearly, the horses didn't care, because they swooped right over his head, narrowly missing hitting him full force. They went on to land beside the Black Lake.

"There's something you don't see every day," Fred grinned.

Out on the Black Lake, what I thought was a small boat rose up to reveal a large ship, with one of the sails emblazoned with a red symbol I didn't recognize. All I did know was that I'd never witnessed anything like this before at Hogwarts, and these newcomers were definitely strangers.

~Nellie~

As we flew toward the castle I'd seen in my vision months earlier, I felt a sudden rush of excitement. I was glad I was sitting by one of the windows so I could look out at it as we passed by. The faces of the Hogwarts students caught my eye from where they were crowded at their own windows.

The carriage touched down beside a lake with glistening black water. Madame Maxime stood up, indicating just how huge our carriage was, as she was taller than about two grown women stacked together. "Welcome to 'Ogwarts, girls. This will be our 'ome for ze next few months. Gazair your theengs, and we will go eenside."

I grabbed my brown trunk from underneath my seat and tucked Nettles's cage under my arm, and then followed right behind Madame Maxime, exiting the grand carriage.

I crossed the grounds surrounded by the hushed whispers of my peers. I shifted uncomfortably in my Beauxbatons uniform, consisting of only a short, light blue dress with a miniature cloak of the same color fastened beneath my chin. And by miniature, I mean that it only reached the bottom of my shoulder blades. On top of my head was perched an awkward pointed hat that was, again, the same color. Not really sufficient attire for evening in the fall.

When we entered the castle, Madame Maxime instructed me to leave my things with the belongings of the Hogwarts students. I was a little wary about leaving my things with strangers, but I did as I was told. Madame Maxime had informed me earlier that my new school was aware that I would be here, and that made me feel a little better about my situation.

The only thing that worried me was the entire student body that I would be joining as soon as I stepped through those doors. None of them knew me, except for Fred and George, and we were barely more than strangers, at best. Not to mention the fact that I was one of the best dancers at Beauxbatons, so I had to lead the group of Beauxbaton girls.

Shaking slightly, I took my place in front. Two girls, a blonde and a girl with black hair, stepped in right behind me, and the rest filled it the remaining spaces. When I heard the name of my old school announced by what sounded like an elderly man, followed by the name of our Headmistress, Madame Maxime, the heavy wooden doors creaked open.

I took a step forward.

~George~

After witnessing the arrival of the flying carriage and the underwater ship, Fred and I followed everyone into the Great Hall to see the Sorting. We tried our best to not laugh at the frightened and nervous faces on the first years, but it was difficult. We roared with applause every time one of them was Sorted into Gryffindor, and welcomed them warmly, just like what was done to us six years earlier.

It seemed like ages before Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration teacher, collected the stool and Sorting Hat and carried them back to their original whereabouts. It was then that Professor Dumbledore, a seemingly centuries old man with long white hair and an equally long beard stood. He was the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and when he spoke, the entire hall went quiet.

"Now that we're all settled in and Sorted, I'd like to make an announcement," his voice rang out through the crowded hall. "This castle will not only be your home this year – " The doors to the Great Hall swung open, and in jogged Filch, the school's caretaker. " – but home to some very special guests as well."

In between our quiet silent laughing fits about the way Filch ran, Fred and I raised our eyebrows. Special guests? That sounded interesting, just as long as it wasn't people from the Ministry, preaching to us about how to "protect" ourselves from Death Eaters. That really wasn't necessary.

Dumbledore continued, "You see, Hogwarts has been chosen – "

By then, Filch had reached the Headmaster and had begun whispering feverishly into his aged ear. From where I sat toward the middle of the Gryffindor table, I couldn't make out what they were saying, but Filch seemed deeply troubled about something.

Excellent.

Once Filch was done with his message, he jogged back out of the hall, and Dumbledore went on with his speech. "So. Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event: The Triwiard Tournament."

Fred and I perked up in our seats, giving each other knowing glances. "Brilliant," we breathed in unison, our attention completely on the old man's words.

"Now, for those of you who do not know, the Triwizard Tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests. From each school, a single student is selected to compete."

I leaned forward a little, to better hear what he said. Only one person from each school? What were the odds of it being me?

"Now, let me be clear: if chosen, you stand alone." His voice suddenly turned gravely serious. "And trust me when I say these contests are not for the fainthearted."

Fainthearted? Me? Absolutely not. The thought of it was ridiculous. I could do those contests with both hands tied behind my back. Fred looked like he was thinking much the same.

And, just as quickly as it'd come, the seriousness vanished, and Dumbledore's tone grew lighter. "But more of that later. For now, please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and their Headmistress, Madame Maxime!"

The doors opened again, but instead of Filch, a large group of girls in light blue dresses and hats came waltzing in. They were beautiful; all of them were, but my attention was immediately drawn to the girl leading the crowd. She had a head of dark curls and a set of light gray eyes.

At the same time that I noticed her, Fred leaned toward me. "George," he whispered. "It's _her_!"

~Nellie~

Call it a miracle, or whatever you'd like, but as soon as I walked into that cavernous room, filled wall-to-wall with students of various ages, and started the dance routine, all of my previous troubles completely vanished.

I lightly jogged a few steps in, followed by the rest of the girls. We stopped a little less than a third of the way down and leaned to our right, toward the table closest to the wall. My right arm went out as we all exhaled in unison, pleasant, if somewhat forced, smiles on our faces. Then we continued on another third of the way, repeating the process to our left this time.

The entire place was silent, except for the sound of our shoes, but I thought I heard someone say, faintly, "Bloody hell." A small grin spread across my mouth. At least we impressed someone.

Once we reached the front of the four tables, both of our arms went out, and each of us conjured a few shiny silver butterflies to fly up. I continued forward, while the two girls behind me split up and led their lines to separate sides of the room.

As soon as I saw Fleur Delacour, another of Beauxbatons esteemed dancers, come up from behind the group, I began twirling in circles, right in front of the long table that was facing the students. I started in that direction also, and ended looking that same way. Fleur stopped her own spinning at the same time as me, and together, we bowed.

The two of us exchanged a glance, complete with my narrowed eyes and her slightly curled lip. We'd never really been friends, and had competed for the spot of best dancer ever since we were young. The fact that I was the winner irritated her to no end, and she had no problem letting me know. But now that I was leaving for Hogwarts, the title would be bestowed upon her. Perhaps that'd make her a little less stuck up.

We turned away and went to opposite sides of the room, me to the left, and her to the right. The Headmaster of Hogwarts, who I remembered went by the name of Professor Dumbledore, started to speak. "Now, our friends from the north. Please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang, and their High Master, Igor Karkaroff.

Through the still open doors marched a long line of young men, all carrying staffs and dressed in brown shirts and pants. They tapped their staffs against the floor, twirled them in their hands, and made their way toward the front of the room. Sparks flew whenever the staffs would hit the cold flooring.

I had to suppress a gasp when I saw who was walking in next to Durmstrang's High Master. _It's Viktor Krum! _I thought excitedly. So, the rumors he was still in school were correct, after all.

My attention was brought back to the display before me when some of the boys blew fire from the end of their staffs. They looked like snakes that had been caught on fire as they twisted around their caster's heads. Before they disintegrated, they turned into a phoenix in flight. It was stunning.

Igor Karkaroff and Dumbledore embraced for a brief second, like they were old friends. Then Igor stepped away and joined the other staff members at the long table facing the students. Madame Maxime returned to stand in front of Dumbledore. She turned her head and beckoned me forward.

Now that I was finished dancing, the nerves returned. Suddenly, I was feeling very self-conscious in my tiny uniform and longed to be in the robes that I'd bought for my time at Hogwarts. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I lifted my chin in an effort to gain confidence and strode toward her.

Dumbledore looked even older up close, but his eyes were lit with a playful intensity that was shocking to see in someone of his age. He held out a hand. "You must be Miss Nellie Walker, our new transfer student." He smiled at me. "I'm sure you'll fit in quite well at Hogwarts."

I placed my hand in his and we shook. I couldn't keep a small, embarrassed smile from surfacing. "Thank you, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you," I squeaked out, trying to maintain eye contact.

He turned to look at the staff table. "Professor McGonagall." A witch with graying hair and a pointed black had stood from her seat. "The Sorting Hat, if you will." Without a word, Professor McGonagall retreated to a room just off the hall.

"Sorting Hat?" I asked, confused.

"So you know which House you belong in, of course," Dumbledore replied.

_Oh, of course, how did I not think of that? _I thought with mild sarcasm.

Professor McGonagall returned quickly, carrying with her a brown witch's hat that had clearly seen better days. It was patched, torn, and frayed, and held together in some parts by strands of thread. How was a hat going to tell me what my House was?

McGonagall set the hat on top of my head and stepped back. The accessory fell over my eyes. Immediately, a voice spoke in my ear. "A first year got lost, did she?" Before I could protest, he continued. "No, no, not a first year. A sixth year? From Beauxabtons? Oh, I see. Interesting."

I didn't want to sound stupid by talking out loud, so I really hoped that the hat could read my thoughts. _You're a hat, and you're talking to me?_

"Of course I'm a hat. What did you think was on your head, a shoe? I'm enchanted, so, yes, I'm talking to you. Perhaps we should get on with Sorting you, yes?"

_Okay. Um, what are my options?_

"Oh, no, dear girl, you don't get to pick. It is ultimately my decision. But, if you'd like to offer an opinion, I will take it into consideration."

_But I don't even know – _

Suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, a vision took over my mind. It was of Fred and George, sitting at one of the tables. The second one on my left, to be precise. The image was bathed in scarlet and gold, and a lion roared at the back of my consciousness.

_The second table from the left,_ I answered, a bit proud of my visions at that moment. _The one with the lion, and the scarlet and gold._

"So you're a Seer, eh?" the hat whispered quietly, low enough that if he wasn't also in my head, I wouldn't have heard him. "And Dumbledore doesn't know?"

I swallowed. _Only Madame Maxime knows. And she's promised not to tell. And you mustn't either! I just want to be _normal _for once!_ I begged.

The hat paused. "Very well. I will keep your secret." I sighed in relief. "Anyway, onto the matter at hand. You think you are Gryffindor material?"

_If that's the table I described, then yes._

"I see, I see. A Gryffindor must possess bravery and a strong sense of loyalty. And you think that you have that?"

_Yes._

What sounded like a laugh resounded in my ears. "Very well, then. _GRYFFINDOR!_" The hat yelled out the word so that everyone in the hall could hear it. The chatter that had been going on ceased, and hundreds of pairs of eyes turned to stare at me. Then, slowly but surely, the Gryffindor table, the one I'd described to the hat, the one with the twins, began to clap. Most of the boys clapped louder than was really necessary. I assumed it was because of my attire.

_Thanks, I guess, _I told the hat. _Guard my secret well, okay?_

"I promise," the hat replied, and then McGonagall whisked it off my head. She smiled at me, lightening her stern-looking appearance.

"Well done, Miss Walker," she said. "I am the Head of House for Gryffindor. Come to me if you have any questions. You can ask one of your classmates to show you the way. For now, you should go and sit with them."

"Thank you," I mumbled, nodding in her direction. I gave Madame Maxime a slight wave, which she returned, and managed a small smile in Dumbledore's direction. He smiled back.

I convinced my feet to carry me toward the Gryffindor table. I could feel everyone's eyes following my movements. I kept my head down and stared at the floor, all confidence lost. Where was I supposed to sit?

"Oi! Beauxbaton!" shouted a male voice. I looked up to see both Fred and George waving at me. "Come sit over here with us!"

Relief washed over me in heavy waves. I'd never been so happy to see someone before, and it was better because there were two of them. I walked a little faster to reach them. Automatically, the two of them slid away from each other to make room for me between them.

As soon as I sat down, they both put a hand on my shoulder. "Ladies and gentleman of Gryffindor," Fred, the one on my left, announced. "This is Kelly Walker."

George poked his brother in the back. "You git, her name's _Nellie_ Walker. Isn't that right?" He phrased the question at me, and I quickly nodded.

Fred laughed. "Oh, right! Sorry about that. Guys, this is Nellie Walker, a friend of ours. And we expect you to be nice to her; otherwise you'll have the two of us to answer to. Okay?"

The rest of the table laughed. Apparently, Fred and George's threats weren't serious. But, still, it felt nice that they called me their friend. And the way that most of the other Gryffindors sitting near me greeted me warmly made me feel accepted.

Soon after, plates, goblets, and bowls filled up with food. My eyes widened as I watched. I was so caught up in my observation that I didn't notice everyone filling their plates around me.

George bumped me with his shoulder. "Hey, Nell, are you gonna eat or what?"

Fred leaned toward me and stuck his fork in my mouth. "Try the chicken. It's excellent."

I laughed around my mouthful of food as I pondered over everything that had just happened to me. I was sitting between my two new favorite people, who I only really just met for the first time and already liked. And they'd given me a nickname, which I found amusing.

I swallowed the chicken (Fred was right, it _was_ excellent) and grinned at the both of them, which they quickly copied.

_I think I'm going to like it here._


End file.
